Sitting on the edge of an old tractor tyre,
I pushed my
gaze through strands of barbed wire,
Until I saw
you, perched high in a tree
Above a patchwork of fields spread greenly,
Imperiously
poised in your throne-pine
As if to say “All this is mine...”
Then with
fanned out feathers you drop and glide
Effortlessly
soaring with wings held wide,
Tilted head
and glinting eye;
Lord over
the land, sovereign in the sky.
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